Remember the Day
by Maple Beer
Summary: France looks back on his relationship with Spain. France/Spain, human names used.


"I remember the day we met. Instantly, we had a connection like nothing I've ever had with anyone else. We were always very close, even as children. As we grew older, we grew even closer. All there was to know about me, he knew it. We always had fun when we were together. Others saw him as a clueless boy, but I knew different. I knew how caring and wise he was. He knew exactly what to say to make me smile when I thought the whole world had turned against me. He never judged me like everyone else did. He simply understood me, in a way no one else ever could. He was my best friend.

I remember the day I confessed my feelings for him. I look back and I'm there again, pacing in my room. I worried about his reaction, whether or not he would feel the same way. I worried about what others would say. But mostly, I worried that me telling him how I felt would ruin our friendship. I knew that if I lost his friendship, I would be lost. That worry almost made me change my mind, but then I was at his door, ringing the doorbell. When he let me inside, I was stuttering over every word. I was so nervous, I must have sounded like a complete fool trying to tell him how I felt. I was surprised he could understand the words I was stumbling over. I was even more surprised, however, when he too confessed that he had feelings for me. He loved me, and I loved him.

I remember the day we had our first date. I must have spent at least two hours trying to choose what to wear. I was incredibly nervous; it was one of the most important days of my life, in my opinion anyway. We met at our favourite coffee shop for something warm to drink, as it was quite chilly outside that day. While we drank our coffee, we decided to go to the theater and see a movie. He wanted to see a silly show about a group of men running around doing foolish things. I didn't think it would be very good, but his eyes lit up while he told me what the movie was about. I desperately wanted him to feel good about me as a date, so I smiled and agreed to see the movie. Once we got to the theater, we bought our tickets and snacks and proceeded to find a couple of seats near the screen. As soon as the room went dark, I decided to try my luck. I pretended to yawn, stretched my arm out and wrapped it around him. It was terribly cliché, but he smiled brightly with a slight blush on his tanned cheeks and leaned into me. The movie that he chose was full of idiocy, if you ask me. The men in it were simply odd, and reminded me a lot of Alfred with their brashness and foolishness. He found it particularly funny, though, when one of the men was in a port-a-potty and was shot into the sky. He spent most of the movie laughing at the things the men were doing. I didn't much care for it, but I cared for him. And making him happy was what made me happy.

I remember the day we kissed for the first time. We had been dating for at least three weeks, which was something that I wasn't used to. But I wanted to take things slow with him. I didn't want to ruin things with the one I loved. His hand brushed against my cheek as he leaned in, closing his eyes. His lips were soft and sweet, just like him. They pressed against mine tentatively, and then they were gone. His forehead was resting against mine, with his hand on my cheek, eyes searching mine for emotion. I wrapped my arms around him and brought him close, kissing him again. It was perfect. He was perfect.

I remember the day of our first anniversary. Somehow we had made it to a year of being together. In that year, we had grown to be inseparable. We worked together, we played together. Everything we did, we did it together. Some people didn't understand. Surely, he could've done better. Everyone knew that, even me. But I was always thankful that out of all the others he could have, he chose me. He meant everything to me. It got to the point where I couldn't imagine my life without him, and I never wanted to. He was everything to me; I needed him in my life. He was my true love, and my best friend. I thanked every possible thing and being I could think of for bringing us together. I knew that he was my better half, and I could only hope that I might be as important to him as he was to me.

I remember the day he broke my heart. It was a cold, rainy Tuesday. His eyes were tired and he had a worried expression on his beautiful face. And then he told me he was sick. I asked him if he wanted me to go to the store and buy him some medications or tomato soup to make him feel better. He smiled, but it didn't reach his emerald eyes. I winked playfully and suggested we play doctor, surely that would make him feel better. He laughed, but it wasn't the bright, cheerful laugh that I was used to. Instead, it was hollow and dark. He closed his eyes before telling me that there wasn't anything that I could do to make him better. He was really sick. He moved closer to me and pulled me into a strong embrace, and he told me not to worry, that as long as I loved him and stayed strong, he would not be scared, he would be strong too. He told me that we would enjoy the limited time we had left to spend together, and then he would go to Heaven and wait for me there. He wanted me to continue to be strong after he left and be successful and make him proud. Then he just held me, and we cried together.

I remember everything. Every life changing moment, every small detail. All the things that people thought were unimportant are the things that I remember most vividly. We had been through so much together, there's no way I would ever forget. I wouldn't ever forget the way he put the needs of others before his own, or the way his dimples showed when he smiled. The way he smelled like tomatoes, and the way his eyes sparkled when he was talking about something that made him happy, like a fond memory. I'll always remember him, and the memories we shared over the years we've been together. He was everything I wanted in a friend, and in a lover."

Francis stepped back from the podium, drying his cheeks of the tears that fell mercilessly. He looked around the crowded room at the others joining him in mourning. He saw Gilbert, who even though he claimed to be too awesome to cry, was silently weeping into Matthew's chest. He looked at Matthew, who had a few stray tears running down his cheeks, trying desperately to comfort Gilbert. Francis saw all the others in the room, there were many there. Some were easily recognized by Francis, others weren't, but the man they were all grieving over had made many friends during his short life. Francis took one final look at the others before hesitantly walking closer to the casket.

Looking inside the casket was the most painful thing that Francis had ever experienced. The man he loved lay inside, his emerald eyes closed forever. His mouth, in a straight line, would never smile again. He would never speak another word; his voice would simply be a memory. The two of them would never go on another date; they would never share another kiss. Francis pulled out the single red carnation he was holding behind his back and placed it on the casket. He wiped more tears from his face, and said one last goodbye.

"Despedida, Antonio. Siempre estarás en mi corazón."

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><p>AN: Well, this is my first fic, so if you review I'd really appreciate it! Thanks! ^_^


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